When he had made seventy he got a ball on the knee. Charles ran out and offered to run for him, but Eric said he could manage, thank you. Then Charles went and walked rapidly up and down in front of the screen; but Eric wasn't the sort of batsman who minded that. At about ninety, Eric's knee was pretty bad, so he called out for somebody to run for him--_not_ Charles. Five of Charles's hirelings rushed out of the pavilion, but the captain said he would go himself, as that wasn't fair. Besides, he had money on Eric himself. At this point I gather that Pallas Athene must have deserted Charles altogether, for he seems to have entertained for a moment or two the ignoble notion of tampering with the scorer. I am glad to be able to say that even the members of the Balbus College "K." Team, eaten up as they were by this time with commercialism, declined to be parties to that particular wickedness. With every circumstance of popular excitement Eric's hundredth run--a mis-cue through the slips--was finally made, scored and added up. In fact, he carried his bat. "So you were all square," I said, not without admiration. "By no means," said Eric. "It cost me forty shillings." "And Charles?" "It cost him seven pounds." A. P. H. * * * * * "SUGGESTIONS." A WARNING. Entering as we are upon the season of games, it might be well to utter an urgent appeal to hostesses not to play "Suggestions." For "Suggestions," though it may begin as a game, is really a wrangle. Under the guise of a light-hearted pastime it offers little but opportunities for misunderstanding, general conversation, allegations of unfairness, and disappointment. "Suggestions" ought to be played like this: You sit in a semicircle and the first player says something--anything--a single word. Let us suppose it is (as it probably will be in thousands of cases) "MARGOT." The next player has to say what "MARGOT" suggests--"reticence," for example--and the next player, shutting his mind completely to the word "MARGOT," has to say what "reticence" suggests--perhaps _Grimaud_, in _The Three Musketeers_--and the fourth player has to disregard "reticence" and announce whatever mental reaction the name of _Grimaud_ produces. It maybe that he has never heard of _Grimaud_ and the similarity of sound suggests only GRIMALDI the clown. Then he ought to say, "GRIMALDI the clown," which might in its turn suggest "melancholy" or "the circus." All the time no one should speak but the players in their turn, and they should speak instantly and should say nothing but the thing that is honestly suggested by the previous word. At the end of, say, a dozen rounds the process of unwinding the coil begins, each player in rotation taking part in the backward process until "MARGOT" is again reached. That is how the game should be played. This is how it _is_ played:-- _First Player._ Let me see; what shall I say?